Title: Succumb (10?)
Author: Teenwitch
Summary: We have to succumb to the feelings we can never face.

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Brooklyn was a featherlight weight on her knee, yet Cameron found it difficult to concentrate on the paperwork strewn on the table in front of her. Possibly because she felt like she was under the scrutiny of more than a few members of staff. She struggled to ignore their curiosity, straightening her glasses and scanning over her handwritten notes.

It was quieter in the courtyard than in the cafeteria, but it was definitely not as peaceful as she had hoped. She really needed to hire a full-time babysitter and quell the speculation. But that required setting down roots and it signified a more permanent stay, a move she just wasn't ready for.

Which was perhaps ironic, considering the letter she was currently attempting to draft.

She sighed, glancing at Brooklyn, who perched docilely on her lap. She appeared oblivious to the interest she was garnering, carelessness only a child could luxuriate in.

She flipped back a page, eyeing her words critically. She was so absorbed in concentration it took a moment for her to realise a shadow had fallen over her table, and a familiar tap tap sounded against the pavement.

Cameron lifted her head, keeping her face expressionless when she was confronted with House's steely blue gaze.

"Hey," he said slowly, drawing out that single word as if something far more significant lurked behind it. That seductive lilt that had once sent shivers down her spine.

She maintained her serene expression, eyeing him carefully. "Hey."

He gestured to the table, an uncharacteristic show of courtesy. "Mind if I sit?"

She continued to watch him uncertainly. "Sure."

He limped into the chair over the table from her, glancing down at her paperwork briefly. "What are you working on?"

She sighed deeply, sliding off her glasses. So he wasn't going to acknowledge what had happened earlier. She wasn't surprised. Her prior anger had faded, so she was willing to be lenient. She had obviously walked in during a very heated argument – a rarity between House and Wilson in itself. The fact that he had approached her at all spoke volumes more than a verbal apology.

"It's just a letter."

He slanted an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as if he sensed her omission. "You always were finicky about mail."

She retained eye contact. He was eyeing her strangely and she refused to be swayed by his suspicion. "I'm organised. Is that so wrong?"

"No. In fact it's usually very good selection criteria for a job candidate."

She didn't take the bait. "Well, I'm not exactly on the market right now."

"Right. So you're not considering the whole job offer pitch?"

His gaze was practically searing. She held her ground with a newfound tenacity that she could tell both surprised and intrigued him. "There are a lot of things to think about."

House nodded slowly. He had always enjoyed their unspoken conversations. She suspected the ambiguity appealed to him. "Very mature reasoning."

"Yeah, well, maturity becomes a parental requirement."

He rested his cane vaguely on a spare chair, looking faintly amused. There was no mistaking the meaning behind her words. "So I've heard."

Silence enveloped them, which Brooklyn took it upon herself to interrupt. "Zwoo!"

It broke the tension somewhat, and House lifted an eyebrow as she wriggled on Cameron's lap, relaxing in his seat. "That's baby-speak for what?"

Cameron allowed Brooklyn to climb onto the ground, tiredly watching her as she ducked under the table. "I really don't know."

Brooklyn proceeded to approach House, staring up at him curiously. She tugged on his pants, curly brown hair fluttering in the breeze. "Up!" she parroted.

Cameron eyed House uneasily, who wore an unreadable expression. She gestured down at Brooklyn, attempting to lean over and grasp hold of her sleeve. "Sweetheart, no."

House rolled his eyes, looking slightly disgruntled. "It's fine," he said shortly, and to her immense surprise, lifted Brooklyn easily onto his good knee, forearms bristling with reserved strength. Brooklyn smiled, settling quietly in contentment, as if she had achieved some higher plan.

Cameron was rendered momentarily speechless.

"I hope she's toilet trained," House grumbled, righting her on his lap with an ease that betrayed his anti-sociable tendencies. "I really don't like getting peed on."

Cameron lifted her eyebrows, watching them in utter disbelief under hooded eyelashes. If she was completely honest with herself, his reaction to her daughter secretly thrilled her. She had never seen him respond so openly to another human being, not without some level of reluctance or snark to hide his obvious affection. That was still evident here, but it bore a transparency that was startling.

She quickly blinked, forcing herself to look down again. It was almost the beginning of a tenuous, unspoken affinity between the two of them and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Feelings for House represented a weaker portion of herself she would rather leave forgotten.

"So… what were you and Wilson arguing about?" she spoke up quietly, flicking her hair behind her ear and giving her racing heart a lengthy moment to slow.

He frowned at her question. "Blunt," he noted, smirking slightly. "That's new on you."

"House."

He shrugged idly, bracing one hand on Brooklyn's leg. It was an instinctual motion— an act to simply to hold her in place— yet Cameron found herself strangely distracted by it, and struggled to concentrate on what he was telling her. "Cuddy wants to fire me," he answered succinctly.

Her mouth fell open, half in surprise at his sudden honesty, half in dismay at his complete lack of concern. "You don't sound… very worried."

"I'm not. Cuddy loves me way too much for that. She'll think of something."

Cameron hesitated, stretching her slender fingers over the papers in front of her. "Why do they want to fire you?"

"Oh, I don't know." He waved a hand impatiently. "My popularity isn't what it used to be. Personally I just think they're jealous. I'm racking up the points so I'm getting voted off the island."

"Wilson doesn't think you're taking it seriously," she guessed knowingly.

House frowned. "You and Wilson… need to get laid. Preferably with each other, so I can kill two birds with one stone."

She smiled, shaking her head. "Typical. Evasive, as usual."

"Again, I reiterate my point."

"Don't pretend your job doesn't mean something to you. We both know it does. You like it here."

House openly scoffed at her. "I don't like it anywhere. Least of all here."

Cameron smiled sadly. "As much as you'd like to think so, you're not a very good liar, either."

House stared at her intently. His mouth lowered in its perpetual frown, but this time there was a level of bitterness behind it. "I think you've been out of the loop far too long, Dr. Cameron. I never lie."

"Right," she murmured, indicating that she didn't believe him in the slightest.

Brooklyn shifted on his lap, and he smelt the soft, baby powder smell of her hair. He gazed over her head at Cameron, who was eyeing him with a smidgen of uncertainty. "You really… don't care, do you?" she prompted softly, eyes widening faintly in alarm. It was that doe-eyed look she had that alternatively charmed and irritated him. Even after all this heartache she had managed to retain that innocence. It reminded him just how unworthy… it reminded him that she was nothing like him, and her compassion was misinformed.

He scowled, avoiding her eyes. This was what he got for attempting to act contrite. A Freudian analysis from the one person who shouldn't be able to make these observations as well as she was. She tilted her head, licking her lips hesitantly. She harboured a genuine curiosity that was difficult to avoid.

"Why?"

House had never been happier to see Chase than he was at that moment. He actually didn't remember if he had ever been happy to see the Australian doctor, but he sure as hell was now. He weaved between the haphazard jumble of tables towards them, approaching them briskly and delaying House's expected reply with a flourish.

"Cameron, here you are," he announced. "Dr. Kendall's looking for you. You left your pager in the office."

Cameron glanced up, stilling her hand. "Oh…" She eyed House awkwardly, gaze hovering over her daughter.

House rolled his eyes at her subtly. "Oh, I'm sure we'll be fine. I can sell her into child labour next week."

A ghostly smile quirked at Cameron's lips, and she rose to her feet. "I won't be long," she assured him firmly.

"Take your time," House called after her. "Cuddy doesn't like healthy kids in the clinic. It's this weird policy she has. And she wouldn't want me to shirk my babysitting duties, now would she?"

Cameron rolled her eyes back at him, disappearing swiftly into the hospital's walls. House glanced up at Chase, who remained rooted to the spot, eyeing his boss uneasily.

"Wanna take over, Skippy?" House asked, somewhat impatiently.

Chase frowned. "No, uh, you look like you've got a handle on it, thanks."

House pursed his lips in thought. "Maybe I can teach her some naughty words before mommy dearest comes back. Corrupting the young is always fun."

Chase slowly took a seat at the table, as if he wasn't quite willing to leave House alone with Brooklyn. House smirked at his unyielding loyalty. Something Cameron's absence had failed to diminish. "That's what I thought. Don't we have a patient to be working on?"

"Foreman's keeping an eye on her. She seems to be responding well to the Medrol."

"Well, it's always a good sign when medicine makes sick people better. It makes our jobs so much easier."

Chase continued to eye Brooklyn with the sort of avid curiosity he usually reserved for a particularly perplexing case.

"She's not going to bite you," House spoke up caustically.

Chase frowned, ignoring his dryness. That was never fun. "It's weird, isn't it?" he said at last, observing Brooklyn critically before turning his attention back to House.

House was tempted to roll his eyes. This was not a conversation he particularly wanted to have right now. Or, you know, ever.

"Got a follow up statement for that one, Trigger?"

Chase cleared his throat, leaning back thoughtfully in Cameron's vacant chair. "Well, Cameron. I never really pictured her as a mother before."

"Ruined all those late night fantasies forever, didn't it?"

Chase shot him a pointed look. "I don't know, did it?"

House had to admit he was impressed with Chase's directness. He had expected this sort of antagonism from Foreman on the subject, but not Chase. "Well I always had this really good one with a bullwhip…"

Chase's eyes widened. "Uh, I really don't want to hear about it."

"Yeah, it's a bit R-rated. We're sort of in the PG crowd right now." He winked, enjoying Chase's squirm. "Maybe later."

Chase absently scanned Cameron's discarded paperwork, lifting an eyebrow slowly. "Do you think she's going to come back?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

Chase looked at him as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of House all of a sudden. "Do you want her to come back?"

House reverted to his typical choice of defence; sarcasm. A trusty weapon if there ever was one. "Do I look like I want to have this conversation with you?"

Chase opened his mouth, and closed it again. House took this as his cue to turn his attention to Brooklyn, who was watching them both interestedly. "Is Dr. Chase boring you?" he cooed in a singsong voice. "Don't be scared of that droopy thing on his head, that's just what he likes to call a haircut."

"Yeah, you know what, I think I'll just head back up to the office now..."

Chase rose to his feet with a resigned sigh, and House turned back to Brooklyn in satisfaction. "See. When you insult them enough, they go away."

"Great. You're teaching her House etiquette. Cameron's going to be thrilled."

"Etiquette rule one," House parroted. "When the help speak, give them a pay cut."

Chase quickly backed away. House sighed, relaxing in his chair. Brooklyn was impossibly soft and light in his arms, making it difficult for him to associate her with reality. The wonder of genetics had never really appealed to him before, but he reluctantly admitted that it was surreal, knowing that Cameron had contributed to her creation. He glanced down at the little girl, who was captivated by a lone bird as it skipped over the adjoining brick wall.

His gaze drifted slowly over the table. Guilt was not an adjective he was familiar with. His fingers casually found the edge of Cameron's letter, and he tugged the flimsy paper towards him, glancing over it slowly.

To Whom It May Concern,

I wish to apply for the permanent full-time position of Board Certified Immunologist on your staff…

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